The Name (Interlude 1)

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In a chair by the window, Sid lounged, absentmindedly scratching Kune as the pup slept silently on his chest. The puppy was growing fast, even after having him for just over a week. After all, all Kune did was eat and sleep and play. It must be a nice life, being a dog. He thought to himself.

In the corner of the room, his captain lay sleeping on a bed, his abdomen wrapped in layers of gauze. Thankfully, the knife that had been used to stab him was short, meaning it hadn't punctured any internal organs. However, recovery would take a couple weeks.

Lenore slept upright in a chair next to the bed. She hadn't left that chair since the castle nurses had brought Evadrian there last night. She kept repeating to herself that she'd stay awake until he woke, but it seems sleep got the best of her at last. Monfreid, on the other hand, had gone to be by himself, supposedly to get started searching for any records of the Night Thief the palace library. He never liked seeing his friends injured.

A fire crackled in the hearth. The room had a vague smoky smell, mixed in with the freshness and crisp air of evening. It was a cozy place, and Sid felt like he was finally safe. There was plenty of food here, warm blankets, and finally, Aenere and the surviving Reds was behind bars, locked deep in the palace dungeons. At last, they could focus on finding the Night Thief without worrying about being chased by a maniac. Things would get better for them.

Sid looked back out through the window. In the distance, bats stirred. They rose into the twilight and then descended into the streets and out of view. Over and over again. Curious.

He'd heard the legends of the Night Thief. Sid' Aunt Missandra had spoken of them, and reinforced by Old Lady Annash, whose house he'd live at as a child. Annash and her husband weren't high-ranking as it came to Shah Neurean nobility, but they were old, and in need of service. Sid's Aunt and Uncle were the only ones who had answered their call. A sleepy, crumbling estate in the middle of the country wasn't exactly the most ideal of work destinations for most migrants. But, the Lady Annash never had any children with her husband. Perhaps that's what drew Missandra and Leodel to them, having that similarity.

Sid had felt like his home was there, back at the country estate in Shah Neurn. Both the nobles and his Aunt and uncle had treated him like their own blood. It had been comforting, even without growing up with friends his own age. They'd tried to keep him separate from the other boys, and protected in case his sickness would flare up again.

Sid gazed out at the bats again, but they had since disappeared. He knew the Night Thief wasn't here. The pain in his forehead was nearly gone. Distantly, he could feel the pressure, like a heartbeat, a piece of himself, far away in the north.

At closer distances, the headache was more pronounced, a dull, sickening pressure like the feeling of a clothespin clipped on the bridge of his nose.

He'd never told anyone about what he thought caused it, anyone except Abreigelle.

He missed her. He missed her smile, the way her golden curls bounced around her face when she laughed. She was perfect, both strong in spirit and radiating femininity when she wanted. Even the memories of her seemed more real than everything that had happened in these past few weeks.

Sid closed his eyes. I'll tell her. When I see her again. I have to. She'd been his friend for almost two years. Surely by now she'd have felt something...more than friendship, like he did.

Doubt trickled into his head. Surely, she'd have told him by now, if she felt that way. Abreigelle was outgoing like that. But, what if she was just as afraid to confess as he was? He spent the next moment lingering on that thought.

After a year of imagining what it would be like if she actually liked him back, he'd come to the conclusion that just picturing it in his head was better than anything that could come out of confessing in real life. It was the wrong way of thinking, he knew, but sadly, the truth. It had kept him from saying anything for so long.

It wouldn't any longer. He would do it, even if it meant rejection, and their friendship growing awkward for a time.

Abreigelle was alive, but he'd had prayed nights on end that they'd find her again. He knew she was, just as surely as he knew that piece of himself lived.

He reached for the locket that he'd kept hidden under his shirt. The metal wasn't gold, though it had a similar sheen to it. And flicked up the latch on the side. The locked whirred for just a second, as if it were made of a technology long lost. He'd never come across anything like it before.

Inside was a piece of parchment, folded carefully, and soft from him touching it so many times.

He couldn't stop thinking about it the past week. He couldn't stop thinking that, somehow, it was important.

On the paper, scrawled in thin, loopy handwriting was a single word. He knew this was no word spoken in everyday conversation. That's because, this was no ordinary word. This was a name.


Blaise. 



End Part III

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So, that's the 'planned' halfway mark. :) I'm soooo hyped to write Parts 4, 5, and 6 !!! 




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